


One Flower a Day

by Eva_Swan



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 03, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 09:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16910061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eva_Swan/pseuds/Eva_Swan
Summary: Matt and Karen are in a good place. But Foggy is growing impatient: he wants his friends to get back together as soon as possible. A wish Maggie shares. She thus gets Matt to tell her all about his plan to win Karen back... and executes it without his knowledge. For a week, she'll send Karen one flower a day, each carrying a special meaning. Will this be enough to bring these two together again?





	1. Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This ficlet is the product of several prompts I received on Tumblr. I'll add all the details at the end, because I don't want to spoil the whole thing for you... Just know is hella fluffy. Thanks for reading! :)

Spring had finally come to Hell's Kitchen. The residents gradually let go of their warm coats and scarves, and enjoyed long strolls between concrete and blossoms, the streets regaining some color, almost flushing in the sunlight. It was a bright, sunny day, and Matt Murdock relished the heat of the sun on his face, standing by the window of their new office.

“Are you planning on sun-bathing all day, Murdock?” Foggy quipped.

  
Matt laughed. “Wish I could. It feels like a beautiful day ou there.”

  
His friend put his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the world outside. “Yeah,” he sighed, “blue skies, warm temperatures. But since when do you care about the freaking weather?”

  
“I don't know,” Matt admitted with a smile, “I guess I was just tired of the cold.”

  
Foggy Nelson knew better. Matt wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. Few things could put such a heartfelt smile on his otherwise broody face. “Nah, that's not it,” he said, shaking his head. “You look... You look joyful. Goofy, even. Like someone who's...” He stopped and took a good look at Matt's face. Suddenly, it all made sense. “Wait... Matthew, are you... in love??”

  
Matt hung his head to hide his grin. “Foggy...”

  
“You totally are!” Foggy cheered. “It's Karen! Did you guys get back together? How come you didn't tell me!”

“We didn't,” Matt corrected, his arms folded over his chest.

  
“Still, I may only average senses, I sense love in the air. You had the same silly smile on your face when you dated her.” Foggy's eyes scanned his friend's face some more, looking for an answer he apparently wasn't willing to voice. “Tell me I'm wrong and I'll leave you alone, buddy,” he added.

  
“I can't,” Matt admitted. He knew Foggy would not let this go.

  
“So it is Karen Page,” Foggy said with a knowing smile.

  
“Yeah, okay, I was thinking about her,” Matt sighed. “Happy?”

  
Foggy threw his fist into the air. “Fucking delighted, you mean!” he almost yelled. “Did anything happen?”

  
“No, I just... I don't know, I think we're in a good place. I don't want to mess that up, but... I was just thinking about the future.”

  
Foggy went up to him and place a hand on his shoulder. “And...?” he said.

“And she's there,” Matt replied with a shrug.

  
Foggy frowned. “That's a bit cryptic, but okay. Are you gonna do anything about this?”

  
Matt gulped. “I might. Eventually.”

  
“That word again,” Foggy complained, his hands ready to squeeze his friend's neck. “Matt, why not _today_?”

  
“I want to take things slow. And make sure we're both on the same page.”

  
“Have you seen the way she looks at you?” Foggy scoffed. Matt tilted his head. Shit. “Well,” his friend continued, “she's clearly longing for you, that's all I'm saying.”

  
“Yeah, well, there's no rush. We have all the time in the world now.”

  
“I swear, you two are gonna be the death of me. Anyways, get back to your office, Mr Murdock. I don't pay you to think about Karen and drool in the sun.”

  
“I'm not drooling.”

  
Foggy's jaw dropped. Really? “That's so beyond the point, Matthew,” he laughed.

 

Matt didn't answer, he simply laughed back. There was nothing more to say. His friend could read right through him, and it was only a matter of time before Karen did as well. Or maybe she had already... He wasn't that good at hiding his feelings for her. He could be this stone cold jerk hellbent on fighting on his own, but for some reason, whenever it had something to do with Karen Page, he turned into a nervous schoolboy.

Foggy left the room and got back to work, wishing his friend would get it together. Once seated on his brand new desk chair, he grabbed his phone and started to dial. There was only person that could help him.

“Hey, Sister, I hope I'm not disturbing you?”

  
“Foggy Nelson,” Maggie answered at the other end of the line. “Lucky for you, I was getting a break from the Almighty. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  
“It's about Matt. I figured you could help me out with something.”

  
“Is he okay?”

  
“Oh, yes, no new cuts or bruises. I'm more worried about his love life, if you see what I mean.”

  
He heard her scoff. “I do. I take it he's still not dating the pretty blonde?”

  
“Nope,” Foggy sighed. “He's afraid of messing it all up once more. But I feel like he's got something in mind. He wants to take action but he won't. Not now, at least. I was hoping you could maybe talk to him and get him to hurry the hell up?”

  
“What's the rush?”

  
“I just want my friends to be happy. And I can't stand to see them acting like teenagers.”

  
“I'll see what I can do.”

  
“Thanks, Maggie.”

  
“It's not me, the orders come from up above.”

 

Foggy chuckled and hung up. “You have no idea what's coming for you, Matty,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

Maggie patiently waited for Matt to come see her. He did so regularly, more and more these days. She was glad to see him so light-hearted, and she felt grateful to have him back into her life. He couldn't call her “mom” yet, but she didn't mind. She knew she didn't deserve this word. His presence was enough to make her happy.

One day, he came to her. It was a warm morning, pale light shrouding Clinton Church. She greeted him with a smile.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

  
He chuckled softly. “Hi, Maggie.”

  
She put a hand on his shoulder, and they started walking along the aisle. “It's been a while,” she remarked. “I take it the practice is doing well these days?”

  
“Yeah,” Matt confirmed in a smile, “we're pretty busy. But it's great.”

  
She nodded. “How's Foggy doing? And Karen?”

  
She noticed how his lips twitched upwards when he heard her name. “Good, they're good. Foggy is still Foggy, complaining about the money but taking care of our clients as if they were family, and Karen...” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Karen's being a great investigator.”

  
Sure. “She still single?” she asked mischieviously.

  
“I, hum, why this question?” he stammered, uneasy.

  
Maggie shrugged. “It's just that a pretty girl like this, I'm surprised no one shares her bed.”

  
He sighed. “Well, she didn't mention anyone.” Luckily for him.

  
“Really?” she replied. “That's a shame. She did talk about that redhead last week...”

  
Matt suddenly stopped in this tracks, and placed his hand on a bench. “She came to see you?” he inquired, surprised.

  
“Oh, we meet every now and then,” Maggie replied. “She's lovely. She comes to have a chat with me and plays with the kids. They love her. I think some of them have a crush on her.”

  
Cute. But one thing she said before that irked him. “And she mentioned... a man?” he went on.

  
“Oh, the redhead, right. Yes, from what I gathered he's a journalist, and they had dinner once. She didn't really know whether to take things further or not.”

 

That was a lie. Karen hadn't met any redhead. But Matt didn't know that, and Maggie was very good at lying. Way too good, for a nun. She had hit a spot, and she held back a smirk.

 

“Right,” Matt answered, his hand now clenching the hard wood of the bench.

  
“You know, if you were to step in...” Maggie added, “I'm sure she'd forget all about that fellow.”

  
He chuckled. “Why would I-”

  
Maggie shook her head. “I'm not Daredevil, but I know when you lie, Matthew. When are you planning to get her back?”

  
Matt sighed and resumed walking. “Soon,” he said.

  
“How?” she inquired. She was not letting this go, even though he certainly wished she would. “Have you thought about it?”

“I...” he began, before laughing at himself. “Nah, this is stupid.”

  
“Matthew, come on, I've heard my share of silly things, just shoot.”

  
He took a deep breath and turned around to face her. “She loves flowers,” he stated.

  
Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. “Shocker,” she scoffed.

  
Matt tilted his head. “Do you wanna know what I had in mind, or not?”

  
“Yes. Sorry.” She quietly zipped her lips, aware that he would know.

  
“I thought I could...” Matt began, his left hand going in and out of his pocket. “I thought I could send her one flower a day, for a week. It would be a different flower every day, with a different meaning.”

  
Now, that was interesting. Maggie frowned. “Why not just send her one beautiful bouquet?” she asked.

  
“She's an investigator at heart,” Matt replied with a smile. “She'll look up the meaning of each flower. If she doesn't do so with the first one, she'll start after the second one. I'm sure of it.”

  
His mother grinned. “My, my,” she marveled, “you really did think this through.”

  
“Yeah, I gave this a lot of thought,” Matt answered with a shrug. “I probably shouldn't have.”

  
“It's a great idea, Matthew,” she assured him, smiling softly. “Very... _romantic_.”

  
“That's a big word,” he scoffed.

  
“Well, that's a big gesture. Showering the girl with flowers every day for a week.”

  
“Yeah, well, maybe I'll do it, one day. When I feel our timing's right.”

  
“And when's that gonna be?” she asked. He sat on a bench and didn't answer. She sat next to him. “Do you already know which flowers you'll send her?” she continued, softly. “In that distant, blurry future?”

  
“I... hum... I may have made a list,” he admitted.

  
She grinned. “Then tell me all about it,” she said. “I'm pretty sure you don't know what most of the flowers you picked look like.”

  
He burst out laughing. “Fair enough.”


	2. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen receives one flower a day, and tries to figure out who's her secret admirer...

On Monday, Karen received a pink camellia. She heard loud knocks on the door, and opened it to find the flower delicately wrapped in white silk paper. There was no name on it, no note. Just a tag, with the name of the flower.

“Weird...” she let out, closing the door behind her. Maybe it was a mistake. She had no idea who could send her a gift. A flower, no less. This wasn't any present, it was a romantic gesture. Matt's face flashed before her eyes at the thought, but she shook it off. Matt? Sending her flowers?

Well, was it that crazy...?

She knew Matt would be capable of such gentleness, but he hadn't really shown her any sign of romantic interest. Or perhaps she was refusing to see them, just like she was refusing to let him see how hot and bothered she was whenever he was around. She heaved a sigh, and placed the flower in a vase. She liked it. Whether it was destined to her or not, might as well keep it.

The next day, as she came back from work, she found another flower on her doormat. “What the hell?” she said, loudly. She grabbed it and looked for a clue, anything that could tell her who the mysterious admirer was. Nothing. Just the flower's name: White carnation.

She stepped into her apartment and sat on the couch, her eyes still fixed on the flower. “Okay, so two days, two different flowers, no name, no note. Just... Just the name of the flower.” She frowned, gently put down the carnation and grabbed her phone. What if the note was the flower? She found herself typing “language of flowers” in the search bar and chuckled. This is ridiculous, Karen, she tought. She scrolled down the page of the first website she could find, and looked for the meaning of the first flower she received. “Camellia... pink...” she mumbled. “longing for you. Wow, that's pretty straightforward.” She did the same with the second flower. It meant 'Sweet and Lovely, innocence, pure Love.' “There's definitely a pattern here,” she said, her eyes still narrowed.

At least, she hadn't received a box of rotten roses. That would've been ominous. She didn't know whether she could take those gifts seriously, but she was sure it wasn't dangerous. Someone was playing with her... and her guts told her it was Matt Murdock.

Who else?

That second flower was meant for an innocent. She remembered their talk in the crypt. “You always treated me like I was innocent. It was nice that you thought of me like that.” This couldn't be a coincidence.

“Well, we'll see tomorrow,” she sighed.

On Wednesday morning, she got up and headed straight to the door. An orchid. She didn't need to read the tag this time. She took the flower and ran her fingers on its petals. A soft smile broke across her face. Imagining Matt selecting the flowers and sending them to her put butterflies in her stomach. She could feel their wings flap, faster and faster. She brought the flower to her chest and went back into her apartment.

That day, at work, she didn't talk much. She didn't want to say anything about the flowers. She couldn't talk to Foggy, he would get too excited and he'd ruin the whole thing for Matt, and she couldn't talk to Matt, because she wanted to see where this was heading. He was pretty good at hiding his emotions. It's as if he didn't know about it all. But she knew.

Dammit.

She had recognized the flower today, so she didn't look up its meaning. She closed her tabs and visited her now favorite website.

“ _Love, beauty, refinement, beautiful Lady_... That's nice,” she whispered. She took a sip of coffee and kept reading. _Chinese symbol for many children_.

FOR. MANY. CHILDREN.

She spat out her drink all over the keyboard.

 

“You okay, Karen?” Matt inquired from his office.

  
“What?” she replied while grabbing a tissue to wipe off the drink.

  
“I heard you spit out your coffee.”

 

Heightened senses. Right. She hoped he hadn't listened to her insane whispering.

 

“Yeah, it was too hot,” she said. “But I'm okay.”

  
“All right,” he simply answered before getting back to work.

 

That was a close one. She took in a breath and closed the non-work related tabs. That man would be the death of her.

The next morning, there was no flower on the doormat, and Karen was disappointed. Having to go to work without a new mystery to solve? Not fun. She thought about it all day long at work, wondering if Matt had given up because of her silence, or if she had been wrong about the whole thing.

“Guys,” she asked, “I was reading that article last night, about Chinese portraits, and I realized I don't know anything about you.”

  
“Are you saying we're strangers to you, Karen?”

  
“No, you obviously aren't. But still, I'd like to know that kind of stuff. So, Foggy, if you were a color, which one would you be?”

  
“Yellow,” he replied in a heartbeat.

  
“Yellow?” Karen echoed.

  
“Yeah, it's an underrated color. It's a happy one. I like it.”

  
She nodded. “Okay, fair enough. Matt?”

  
He gulped. “Hum... red.”

  
“Shocker,” Foggy chuckled.

  
“Yeah,” Karen laughed, “not the smartest question to ask you, sorry. What about that one: if you were a flower? Which one would you be?”

 

She waited for his answer, trying to remain as calm as possible. She didn't want him to hear her heart and suspect anything.

 

“Woah, I never actually thought about that...” he replied. “A cyclamen, I guess.”

  
Foggy frowned. “Is _that_ a flower?” he scoffed.

  
“No, Foggy. It's a washing machine brand,” Matt deadpanned. He shook his head and grinnned. “ _Of course it's a flower_ , we're talking about flowers, aren't we?”

  
“I didn't know you were such a connoisseur,” Karen remarked with a smile.

  
Matt sighed. “It's mainly due to my Catholic upbringing. My father once told me it was my mother's favorite flower. It's said that the red spot in its center represents the Virgin Mary's bleeding heart.”

  
“That's an awfully detailed answer, dude,” Foggy quipped.

  
“Like I said, Catholic upbringing. We love drama.”

 

The all burst out laughing. Drama _was_ Matthew Michael Murdock's third name.

 

“At least you'll know which flowers to offer Maggie for her birthday,” Foggy noticed.

  
“Yeah,” Matt said before heaving a sigh.

  
A soft smile broke across Foggy's face. He was certainly thinking of a feisty blonde. “There's something very romantic about flowers,” he said. “What do you think, Matt?”

  
Matt held his breath, and Karen frowned. “Yeah, there is,” he let out.

 

He wouldn't admit to anything, but Karen was now sure he was up to something. He could tell what people felt, if they were lying, and much more, but he was not that good at hiding his own emotions. And the quiver in his voice, as faint as it was, was enough for Karen to confirm her theory. Matthew Murdock was her secret admirer. And she couldn't wait to come home.

 

When she got home, there was still no flower to be seen. But she had been with Matt all day, so it made sense. She relaxed, ate, and eventually went to bed. She couldn't sleep.  
Around midnight, she got up, too anxious to give in to dreams. She was preparing a hot chocolate, when she heard some noise outside her door. And suddenly, it felt like Christmas. She rushed to the door and opened it swiftly. On the doormat, she found a bellis perennis. A common daisy. The most simple, banal flower you could ever find. So small, lost in the middle of the doormat. Yet, her heart skipped a beat when she picked it up. This flower... it represented them. Their love had stemmed from daily life, long before she knew he was Daredevil. There had been no confettis, no blare. Love had crept on them, gently. The attraction was there from the start, but the depth of their feelings had blossomed like a daisy, until it weathered away.

Was this the end of winter?

She tucked it behind her left ear, and looked up its signification. She had almost forgotten there was a message that came with that flower.

“ _Innocence, loyal love, purity_ ,” she read. She smiled fondly and fiddled with the petals, softly. She didn't know about innonce or purity. She didn't think she deserved to be called an innocent, not when she had killed. But loyal love... It was all the reassurance she needed.

She went to bed, excited and yet, strangely relaxed. She put the tiny daisy on the pillow next to hers, and fell asleep picturing Matt in its stead.

 

* * *

 

 

6.00 am. The night had been short. Karen opened her eyes with difficulty, but smiled when she thought about the fifth flower. She got up and headed straight to the door, as she had been doing each morning since the beginning of the week. A flower was already there, lying on the doormat.  
“Lily-of-the-Valley,” Karen whispered.

She grabbed the delicate flowers and inhaled their scent. She played with the snow-white bells, So far, it was the most complex flower of all. Because of its scent, the cascade of tiny bells. She tried to imagine how Matt would 'see' this flower. It was so many things at once. She got back inside and sat on her couch, eager to find out about the meaning of her gift. “ _Sweetness, tears of the Virgin Mary, return to happiness, humility, you've made my life complete_.” That last sentence got the best of her. The only thing she wanted to do at the moment was kissing that idiot. Drag him by the tie and never let him go.

Because he made her life complete too, and few people in the world were lucky enough to feel the same way about anyone.

On Saturday, she received a violet. It meant “Let's take a chance on happiness.” The message was clear. She placed the flower in between the pages of one of her favorite books, and the words kept ringing in her head all day long.

On Sunday, the daily gift was delicately wrapped in red silk paper. Karen took it, and waited until she was sat on her bed to open it. She found a red tulip.

 _Her favorite flower_.

 

“How on earth...” she let out, dumbfounded.

 

She didn't need to look it up. She knew what it meant.

It meant “Believe me,” and it was a declaration of love.

She held back tears and covered her mouth with her free hand. She felt ridiculous for getting so emotional over a flower. But this one... This one got straight to her heart. Because it was also her mother's favorite flower. She had planted them in their backyard, and Karen used to take care of them when she was a little girl. It was also the flower she had laid on her mother's casket. Her last token of love. It had remained a symbol of death and pain for so long. Now, it would forever stand as a symbol of hope. She suddenly noticed that the usual note did not only feature the name of the flower, this time.

“Meet me where you opened up to me, at 8:00pm,” she read.

The crypt. That's what he was referring to. _What an odd place for a date_ , she thought, even though she did acklowledge the weight of the symbol. She placed the tulip in a vase with all the other flowers, and sighed thinking about all the hours that separated her from Matt Murdock.


	3. Tulips and Orchids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday, and Maggie isn't done with Matt and Karen just yet...

In Matt's language, Sunday meant mass. So here he was, sitting on a bench with his mother, at Clinton Church. Father Lantom's successor was okay, but it would never be the same again, and the ache was still vivid in Matt's heart.

“How's Karen?” Maggie suddenly asked.

  
“Karen?” Matt echoed.

  
“Yes, Matt. Karen. Your... _friend_. Are you going to react like this every single time I mention her name?” She smirked and she knew he had caught that because he was holding back a smile.

  
Matt finally gave in, and smiled, fondly. “Yeah... She's doing great.”

  
“Good. We were talking about you, a while ago.”

  
“That bad, uh?” Matt chuckled.

  
The nun pouted. “I may have teased her a little bit,” she confessed.

  
Matt sighed. “Maggie-”

  
“She blushed,” she cut him off. “A lot. She's even prettier when her cheeks are flushed.”

Matt bet she was. He felt sorry not to be able to see the redness on her cheeks, but he could still get a pretty detailed picture. He could feel the warmth of her skin, he could hear her blood slowly making its way from her heart to her face. In fact, it was as if her heart were cut into two parts, each one nestling underneath the flesh of her cheeks. And he cherished those moments.

He nervously tapped on the bench. “What did you tell her?” he inquired.

  
“We were talking about that night, down in the crypt.” She didn't look at him. Instead, she looked up, both her hands rested on her lap. She paused for a few seconds, and scanned his face, eager to see his reaction. “I asked her how you managed to fit into that coffin,” she admitted.

  
Matt's lips twitched upwards, ever so slightly. “Well, it did feel pretty cramped in there.”

  
“From what I gathered it didn't really bother her,” she quipped. Her son frowned. “What, are you surprised?” she continued.

  
“Our lives were being threatened, I-”

  
“There's a name for what you're doing, Matthew,” she said. “It's called _Murdock bullshit_. I've seen too much of that. Be honest. Was fear the only emotion you remember feeling then?”

  
Matt's fingers stopped tapping. Instead, they squeezed the edge of the bench. “No,” he finally answered. “I... hum.... I felt lucky she couldn't hear my heart.”

  
“That's more like it,” she cheered. “Lord, I cannot wait to meet my grandchildren,” she added with a smirk.

  
Matt got up. He placed his hands on his hips, then scratched the top of his head... He didn't know what to do with himself. “Wow, wait a minute, that's not-” he stuttered.

  
“Murdock bullshit, Matthew,” she answered. “Murdock Bullshit.”

 

* * *

 

 

The night was pretty warm and clear. Karen made her way to Clinton Church, her heart pounding fast in her chest. She felt like she was about to throw up.

 

“It's gonna be okay, Karen,” she whispered to herself. “It's just good old Matt.”

 

Good old Matt. Had he ever been good old Matt? She couldn't remember a time when she was not attracted to that idiot.

 

She finally pushed the doors of the church, which was empty at this hour. Only a few nuns were strolling around. She walked down the stairs that led to the crypt, and shivered. She hadn't come down here since the... incident. She could still feel the sheer terror, hear the erratic sound of her heart. It felt unreal, really. But when she reached the crypt, she remembered the way Matt's presence had soothed her. She was so busy playing the events of that unholy evening in her head that she almost didn't notice the lighting. Red, green, yellow, blue... A myriad of colors splashed the floor. She looked up... The ceiling was covered in garlands. _Dripping chilis_.

 

“Just like... How...” she let out, mesmerized.

 

A small table was set, with two plates, two glasses, a bouquet in its center and small candles surrounding it. She could smell curry, and noticed two bottles of wine in a corner.

He had recreated the Indian restaurant. _Their_ Indian restaurant.

 

Karen dropped her bag and kept walking around the crypt, unable to believe her eyes. It was magic. She unfolded her right hand, palm up, as if to catch raindrops. She couldn't help but stare at the colors dancing on her skin, A gentle smile broke across her face, and tears burned the back of her eyes. It felt like walking into a dream. A dream made of thousands of lights dripping from the ceiling. A dream in which the colors of the garlands mingled with the colors of the stained glass. A dream in which Matt Murdock and Karen Page were happy.

All of a sudden, she heard someone walking down the stairs. She turned around, and saw Matt. He looked surprised.

 

“Karen?” he said.

  
“Hi, Matt,” she answered.

 

He went up to her slowly. She noticed he had his glasses on, and he was all dressed up.

 

“What are you doing here?” he inquired, frowning.

  
Karen crossed her arms over her chest. “I, hum,” she stammered, “I thought you wanted me here?”

  
Matt put his hands on his hips. “What? I mean, I didn't, I don't...”

  
“What are you doing here, then?” she cut him off, her head tilted to the side.

  
“Maggie asked me to meet her down there. Wait a minute...” He sighed and scoffed. “This, this is her doing.”

  
“What?”

  
He rubbed his nape. “My... I think my mother is setting us up.”

 

Karen gulped. If this wasn't his doing... Then did he send her the flowers at all? Was it all just a joke? She grabbed her bag and made her way to the stairs.

 

“Wait, Karen,” Matt pleaded.

  
She dismissed him with a flick of the wrist. “No, Matt, it's fine, I'll just go.”

  
“Maybe we could...” she heard him as she was about to exit the crypt. She tried to open the gate, without success.

  
“She locked us up, didn't she?” Matt asked.

  
Karen sighed and went back to him. “She did.”

  
“Look,” Matt began, “maybe we could just... enjoy the evening? I mean, from what I understand of the situation... the crypt must be looking good. And the food sounds delicious.”

 

She bit her lower lip. Was she really going to pretend she didn't want this? She felt... betrayed, but Matt had nothing to do with that. He was a victim, as much as she was. She nodded, put down her bag, and finally took off her coat.

 

“Might as well,” she said. “After all, this gotta be the best curry in town.”

 

Matt smiled. He didn't really understand what was going on exactly, but he knew how Maggie had pulled it off. He was guilty as charged. He had told his mother about his future plan to win Karen back. Recreating the Indian restaurant was part of it. She had outdone herself... for them. For _him_.

 

They sat at the table, both as awkward as they were on their first date. Matt uncorked a bottle of wine he had grabbed, and poured its content into their glasses. “I hope this one will be to your liking, Ms Page,” he quipped, “I know you're a connoisseur.”

  
“I'm sure it'll be delicious, Mr Murdock,” she answered, smiling.

  
“So, cheers?” he asked, holding up his glass.

  
“Cheers,” she replied, clinking her own glass against his. She took a sip of wine, and he heard the liquid going down her throat. He shivered.

  
“Well,” she went on, “I guess this is the right time to ask you a question.”

  
“I guess it is.”

  
She stared at him for a few seconds, thinking about the best way to word her thoughts. “Matt...” she began, hesitatingly. “Have you been... Hum... Have you been sending me flowers this week?”

  
He gulped and shook his head. How... “I... No, I haven't,” he said.

  
“Oh,” she replied. She was disappointed. Upset, even. Did his mother... Did she use his idea?

  
“Karen,” he said, placing his hand on hers, “I haven't been sending you flowers, I believe my mother has. But... It was _my_ idea. Not hers.”

  
Karen frowned. “What do you mean?”

  
“Well,” he sighed, “a few days ago she asked me if I was ever planning to try and win you back. I told her I was, and I told her about this... About this crazy idea. Sending you flowers everyday for a week. And... counting on you to find out about the secret messages that would go along.”

  
So it was his doing, in a way. Karen's heart skipped a bit. Suddenly, she didn't care whether he could hear her heartbeat or not. Matt Murdock had probably spent hours thinking about how he could win her back. He had picked flowers according to their meanings, he had decided in which order he should send them... He had done all of this. Maggie had just... given him a little push. But some questions remained.

  
“Why the red tulip?” she asked.

  
He sighed. “Remember that day? We walked by a florist and there were red tulips outside. I... I sensed a lot of sadness, a lot of pain in you. I figured this flower had something to do with either your mother or your brother. And as the meaning was particularily fitting... I thought I'd include it in my list. Because it's important to you.”

  
She held back tears, and took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said. “It does mean a lot. This flower... It has been a token of pain for so long. It was about time I moved on.” She peered at his hand. “Is there... Is there such a flower in your heart? A... painful one?”

  
He nodded, and waited a few seconds before answering. “Yes. Orchids.”

  
She narrowed her eyes. “But... You sent me one. Why?” she asked.

  
“Same as why I sent you a tulip,” he answered, his fingers rubbing his napkin. “I need to... overcome that sorrow.”

  
“Can I ask you... what kind of sorrow?” she inquired, hesitatingly.

  
He shook his head. “I'm not sure we should get into that now, I don't wanna ruin the evening.”

  
“Matt, you won't be ruining anything,” she said softly. “I _need_ to know, and you need to tell me, if... If you want us to move forward. Together.”

  
“Okay, okay. Do you, hum... Do you remember that woman you saw in my bed, last year?"

  
Of course she did. She could still see her, her long black hair, her dark eyes, Matt's shirt on her flesh. “Yes,” she confirmed.

  
“I wasn't lying to you, nothing had happened. But... She was my ex-girlfriend. We met at Columbia. We were young, and irresponsible and wild. We loved each other, deeply. She was... It was as if I was fire and she was gasoline, you know? It was passion, it was... We crashed and burned.” He stopped, and took a sip of wine. Liquid courage, Karen tought. “One day,” he continued, “we broke into a house and made plans for the future... I felt alive. I felt immortal. But this was the house of the man who had my father killed. Roscoe Sweeney. And she knew it.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “She had brought me here to get me to kill him. Avenge my father. But I couldn't do it. She left... And only came back last year. She waltzed back into my life, asking me for help with the Yakuza.”

  
Karen gulped. “Was she... Was she the rich client?” she asked.

  
Matt nodded. “She was.” He took her hand in his, and softly rubbed her palm with his thumb. “I know I should've told you, but I was trying so hard to keep these two sides of my life apart. You and her. Matt and Daredevil. Now I know I was wrong. I helped her, but she...” He took a deep breath. The pain was still searing. “She died, Karen. She died in my arms.”

  
“Oh, Matt, I'm so sorry...” she said, covering her mouth with her free hand. Just imagining him going through that hell on his own... “Why...” she went on. “You could've told Foggy and me.”

  
He hung his head. “I went to her funeral. There was only me and Father Lantom. I bought her orchids, because she loved those flowers. That I remembered. I hadn't forgotten anything. But... We were only together for moments, you know?” A weak smile broke across his face. “Her name was Elektra,” he let out, “and... She's always been a shooting star. Months later, when I came to you to get you to go to the precinct... She came back.”

  
Karen's jaw dropped. “What do you mean, she came back?” she inquired, confused.

  
“They brought her back from the dead, Karen. I know it sounds crazy, but they did. I saw her. So did Jessica, Luke and Danny. She was with me when Midland Circle collapsed.” She could feel his body tense by the way he tightened his grasp on her hand, so she covered it with hers. “I was... holding her in my arms,” he went on. “And then I woke up in a bed and she was gone.” Matt Murdock was now on the brink of tears. “I lost her twice, Karen.”

  
She left her sit and wrapped her arms around him. “I'm here, Matt,” she told him before kissing the top of his head. “I'm here.”

  
He placed his hand on her forearm and smiled. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spoil the mood...”

  
“I needed to hear this, Matt,” she said. “She's a part of you, I get it. We all have our scars. I have my tulip, you have your orchid. I'm just... sad you had to go through all of this on your own.”

  
“I didn't tell you because I felt guilty,” he admitted. “I didn't want you to think you were second best, or that I didn't care about you.”

  
She smiled, and caressed his chin, urging him to hold his head up. “No need to worry about that, Matt. After this... grand gesture, I think I know just how much you care about me. Which is... as much as I care about you.”

Matt brought her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes. He should've told her long ago. His secrets, his scars, this doubts, he was now ready to lay it all at her feet, and more. The joy, the pain. It was hers.

“I guess Maggie's plan worked,” Karen laughed. “We poured our hearts out before eating anything.”

  
Matt laughed back. “Yeah, I guess it did,” he giggled. “Now I'll have some of that curry. Wouldn't want to waste it.”

  
“That'd be a shame.”

They ate and spent two hours chatting, about good memories and bad ones. They laughed, all lot. They touched, a lot. She stared at him. He drank in her wonderful self. They were finally truly together. Neither of them wanted that night to end, but around midnight, they both figured they ought to tell Maggie her plan had worked.

“Come on, Maggie, open the gate!” Matt called. “We figured things out, you won.”

  
A couple of minutes later, the nun came to them. “I didn't want you to 'figure things out',” she said. “My work's obviously not done. So you two lovebirds better settle for the night, 'cause I won't open that gate before the morning.”

  
“But-” Matt tried.

  
She shook her head. “Good night, Matthew, Karen.”

 

She left and the 'lovebirds' didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

They ended up laughing.

“What more can she possibly want?” Karen giggled.

  
“Well, she did mention grandchildren,” Matt joked.

 

Karen's heart pounded against her chest. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. Now was the time for more wine... but here wasn't much left.

 

Matt frowned. “Are you... Are you blushing, Ms Page?” he quipped.

  
“Why would I be blushing, Murdock?” she beamed.

  
“I don't know,” he replied. “I just know you are.”

  
She bit her lower lip, and couldn't help but smile. It was both unnerving and incredibly comforting to know he could see right through her despite his blindness. “As much as I'd like to continue this conversation, I'm exhausted.”

  
“Yeah, me too. Hopefully we'll find a more comfortable spot than this coffin.”

  
“I'm not getting in there ever again,” Karen laughed.

  
Matt scrunched up his nose. “Well... I'm afraid there's only one bed down here.”

  
“So you're telling me Maggie literally wants us to sleep together? That's like the most-used fiction trope.”

  
Matt gave her a shrug. “If it's a trope, then it means it works.”

  
“Point taken, I guess,” she scoffed.

  
Matt smiled, and put both his hands in his pockets. “Karen,” he said softly, “will you sleep with me? With no ulterior motive, of course.” He crossed his heart.

  
She pouted. “You know, sometimes I actually have to remind myself you're a lawyer.”

 

They both laughed. They kicked off their shoes and, without a word, jumped into the bed. It was a one-person bed, of course, but they managed to fit in, with Karen's body curled up against his. He breathed into her neck and she felt like she was melting. Gently, he pulled up the blanket over them, and wrapped his free arm around her. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Suddenly, neither of them was tired. They wanted to stay awake, fearful of finding out that this had been a dream in the morning.

 

“There's one thing I've been meaning to tell you for a while,” Matt whispered in her ear. “I feel like now's the right time.” He nuzzled into her neck. “I love you, Karen Page,” he let out. “More than flowers can say.”

  
Karen's heart was racing. She turned around, and caressed his cheek, her eyes roaming his face covered with the colorful lights raining down from the ceiling. “I love you too, Matt Murdock. Best florist in town.”

 

This brought such a smile on his face... She had never seen the likes of it. It was wide, and blissful... She wanted to dive into that smile, make it hers. She closed the small space between them and lay her lips on his. Her mouth simply brushed his, and they breathed into each other, until he kissed her. For what felt like centuries, they relished in the union of their bodies, fingers laced together, lips sealed against one another. Tulip and orchid finally meeting. Matthew Murdock and Karen Page finally reunited.

 

And upstairs, in the deserted church, Sister Maggie looked up at the ceiling and silently thanked her God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! So here are the prompts I used:
> 
> 1\. "where Karen learns the extent of Matt’s prior relationship with Elektra and what happened Midland Circle." (anon) This is a loose adaptation of that prompt, because it's less angsty. But I'll write another one!  
> 2\. "Can you write Maggie teasing Matt (and/or Karen) some more?" (qs63)  
> 3\. The last one was actually a post I reblogged on Tumblr, about Maggie locking up Karen and Matt in the crypt.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! If so, feel free to review ♥


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